Silent Beach
by darkmarkgirl
Summary: All his friends died in the Final Battle. Harry is taken somewhere by Voldemort...to die.


I felt like writing something depressing-I was looking through fanfics and saw one entitled, 'Blood and Sand.' So I got the idea for this story. _Warning-_dark themes.

He wished he hadn't opened his eyes.

The final battle had come-and with it, Voldemort, in all his glory. Voldemort's ranks had swelled enormously in the past few years, his army growing so fast that the Ministry could not even get close to the number.

Unfortunately, they hadn't found out until the battle.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he remembered…blood soaked grass, the cries of agony as lives ended before his eyes…Hogwarts, Hogwarts crumbling into ash and pieces of broken stone…

"_Harry!"_

"_Harry-help us!"_

_Harry…_

The lifeless form of Ron…

"_Ron! NO!"_

Empty eyes…

"_Ron! No…"_

Crawling in grass coated in blood…crawling through the dead battlefield, full of rotting corpses, a haze in the air, so thick that it hung on him like a cloud…tears of despair…

_I'm the only one left._

Making his way through bodies…his dry sobs as he passed his classmates, wide-eyed and unmoving on the ground, frozen, the greenish tint of the Killing Curse still flashing on their faces…

He had crawled through the field, tears pouring down his cheeks, wandering endlessly through the never-ending maze of death…

Harry hadn't even noticed the Dark Lord making his way towards him, his red eyes gleaming with triumph and his skull-like face grinning at his despair…

Emerald eyes searched frantically around-where was he? The moment he had seen Ron's dead face, Hermione's cold, stone hard body-he had sworn to himself, to never rest until he finished it. He had allowed himself to be washed away by his grief-away from the promise to fight, to fight for the ones he had lost…only to be taken to his death by Voldemort, to be mocked at his failure, at the death of his loved ones, and now Voldemort had taken him here, to die…

Harry blinked.

A bright blue sky hung above him, puffy white clouds forming obscure shapes in the sky. The floor was not solid beneath him, instead it slip and slid beneath him, shaping to his body. In the distance he heard the smooth crashing and _whooshing_ of water…waves?

A breeze ripped at his hair, quite different from the heavy feel of death on that battlefield. It was light, carefree, blowing at him in sync with the waves lapping onto a surface. Then he realized where he was.

A beach.

There was no mistaking it, though-sand rising and falling according to his movements, the soft crashing of waves against the beach, the clear blue sky dotted with seagulls. Even a few palm trees danced in the distance. Such hatred formed inside his heat, alien to the peaceful beach he was lying on-so this was Voldemort's trick. Bring him here, to his beautiful, empty beach-free of the blood and death of before-to die, and to mock him before. Harry tried to move, but couldn't-his whole body was paralyzed magically. So Voldemort was really here.

A fresh wind swept over his face, cooling his sweat-lined features and soothing him, although it did nothing for the pain in his heart. If this was where he was going to die, he could at least enjoy the peace of the beach. Harry was confused-it was nice, just lying here and listening to the waves slipping against the sand, the wind rustling the palm trees. Harry closed his eyes, not wanting to think-it was better to pretend that none of that had happened. Here, he was free of the fresh pain and hurt spiking at his heart-here, he was alone.

A sudden movement disturbed him. Harry opened his eyes and squinted as they met the light of the glowing sun. The baby blue sky was now shadowed with light pink and purple. In front of him stood Voldemort, looking down at him with a calculating look. He looked strange; Harry decided, amongst his beautiful beach, so out of place.

Voldemort continued to look down at him, and Harry knew there was nothing he could do if Voldemort decided to kill him. So he simply laid back his head and closed his eyes, listening to the soft chirp of the birds and the breeze in the distance.

"_You have lost." _Before, the words would have cut across him like an icy knife, but now, Harry no more than acknowledged it. Voldemort spoke the truth, he knew, but there was nothing more he could do. Too long…to long fighting. This beach was a utopia, a place that none of his troubles could haunt him. He opened his eyes, just out of curiosity to Voldemort's expression. Voldemort looked as calm and peaceful as he, and the wind rippled his long black robes as he towered down on Harry.

"Your blood will be the first to be spilled on this sand." Voldemort said quietly, and Harry saw him holding a long knife in one hand.

Harry shrugged the best he could from his position; he could not keep his eyes off the brilliant horizon, a mess of hues. "It will," he replied.

Voldemort continued on, watching him carefully. "One of many. There will be many more whose lives will follow yours."

Harry closed his eyes and let the warmth of the sand sink into his skin. "Someone will stop you," he said quietly.

Voldemort began to circle him, the all too familiar malevolent gleam back in his eyes. "How do you think they would feel about you now, Potter?" he hissed, still circling him with the abnormally long knife in one hand. Harry's eyes remained shut. "Rotting, dead on that battlefield…they gave up their lives for you, and now you lie here, waiting to die, useless and a disappointment to all…you see, Potter? I have said it all along…you are nothing special, just a boy with too much luck…your death will be the first of many…and soon this beach will be stained with blood…"

Harry's tone quivered for the first time, but he kept his calm demeanor. "You will die," he said, his tone hard but his voice shaking.

"Oh, really?" whispered Voldemort, still circling Harry. "Once their precious savior is dead, the people will loose all hope. Britain will be mine…next, Europe…and next, the world!"

Harry would have rather not listened to Voldemort's insane prepositions, but he had no choice. "They will resist you," he spat, disgusted at Voldemort's ideals.

"Oh yes?" asked Voldemort. "The ocean will soon spawn the dead bodies of people I have killed…all will fear my power. I will take over country, by country…I am almost immortal, and will be considered a god! People are stupid, Potter…horribly easy to manipulate…soon their children will be like my clones, and I will be respected and idolized…your body will be just one of the many floating alongside this shore. But, before I kill you, let us take in this beach…free of loss, is it, Potter? Free of despair…You know nothing. The darkness in every mortal's heart darkens even the brightest place on earth, and it is only a matter of who can control that darkness. The more people that bow down to me, the more I can control their power…channel it usefully, take out their true potential…your friends died because you did not allow that darkness to come out…you left them weak and defenseless. See Potter, one day all people's hearts will be tainted and covered in darkness, just like this beach. They will long for killing…long for death."

"The light side does not need darkness," said Harry, anger lacing his voice. "They have Love, and in the end, it is Love that will win! Love inspires people to do what is right, out of the goodness of their hearts! The lightness in people's hearts is their strength, not the darkness!"

Harry knew-the beach, even if washed by blood, would be cleansed by the waves of the ocean. It was a place of peacefulness, which could be forever untainted by human cruelty. Voldemort was wrong. The Light would win, and Harry would make sure that his friend's deaths were not for nothing. Even if they were no more than slight shapes in the waving sand, he knew they had made a difference. They showed how darkness could not always prevail. Some would remain Light. And those people would fight the Dark side, until the Light won.

The look Voldemort was giving Harry now was so menacing that Harry feared for a moment that he might strike, but still glared into his ruby red eyes. For a moment, they stared into each other's eyes, energy channeling through them.

"Do you know why I took you here, Potter?" Voldemort asked at last, and the hand holding the knife rose. "I wanted to show you how beautiful and peaceful this place was before you tainted it. I wanted to show you how all places are prone to darkness, that none are protected. I wanted to show you how you…failed."

Voldemort raised the knife higher, its metal gleaming in the sunlight. Harry caught one last glimpse of the sun setting behind Voldemort. The colors were sinking back below the sky, and the sun was fading, its vibrant color turning dull. In the darkening sky, he thought he saw faces: Ron, with his freckly face glowing, Hermione, her bushy hair obscuring Ron's left eye and smiling gently at him. Dumbledore, the twinkling in his eyes just a fragment of the sky now, Ginny, her face shining at him, willing him to join her for eternity. Sirius, his face like one of a dog's, grinning a happy grin at him. All the shapes were fading, along with the sunset…he could barley see them now. All there was was a sparkling light coming closer…and closer…and closer…

The knife handle sped towards his chest. Harry closed his eyes for the impact, wondering if the speeding, sparkling light was his death…

Somehow, he knew he hadn't let them down.

I could leave it here…or I could continue. Does it make sense? Did you like? Hate? Tell me in a review!


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